Putting Childish Ways Behind
by Imadra Blue
Summary: A series of childhood moments experienced by a one Obi-Wan Kenobi, though not all of them are his own. Includes inconvenient timing, stealth ruined by giggling, bad dreams, flexible ages, and perfect Padawans. Gen.


**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all its characters are property of Lucasfilm Ltd. No money is made and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**Notes:** Incorporates a couple of ideas (used with permission) inspired by Neotoma and Rhod's meta conversation about crèches and Crèche Masters. No Expanded Universe material is used in here.  
**Beta Reader(s):** Leianora for the grammar and Neotoma for the logic. Thanks to Luthe for her suggestions and being there for me to bounce ideas off.  
**Written For:** the SW Het and Genfic-a-thon.

...

_When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me._  
- Corinthians 13:11

...

When Obi-Wan Kenobi was brought to the Jedi Order, he was two years of age.

He came wrapped up in a large blue blanket, held in Qui-Gon Jinn's arms. This was not entirely Qui-Gon's choice. Since saving Obi-Wan from an explosion in his home village on the planet Hydaria, Obi-Wan had not stopped clinging to Qui-Gon. He had one small fist wrapped around Qui-Gon's long brown hair, the other tightly clutching Qui-Gon's robes. If anyone else tried to touch Obi-Wan, he screamed.

In fact, one of the first things about Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon had noticed about the child was that he had a powerful set of lungs. If he hadn't screamed so shrilly, Qui-Gon would never have heard him and been able to pull him out of the fiery village.

When Qui-Gon brought Obi-Wan in front of the Jedi Council, the little boy hid his face in Qui-Gon's hair and refused to look at anyone. Even when Qui-Gon set him down so he could be tested, Obi-Wan refused to look at the strange Jedi. Instead, he hid inside Qui-Gon's cloak.

That is, until Yoda hopped off his chair and hobbled over to young Obi-Wan. He gently poked his gimer stick at the obtrusive bump in Qui-Gon's cloak. The bump giggled. Yoda poked him a few more times, until Obi-Wan finally wriggled out of Qui-Gon's cloak to see who was poking him.

Big blue eyes went wide with curiosity when Obi-Wan saw Yoda. He crawled closer to him, giggling. After some arrangements were made with the other Council members, Qui-Gon and Yoda tested him alone. It didn't take them long to determine Obi-Wan not only possessed Jedi potential, but could grow to be one of the greatest Jedi they'd ever seen. His reflexes were quick, his mind sharp, his eyes keen, and his connection to the Force strong.

Young Obi-Wan was accepted into the Jedi Order without any problems. It was when Obi-Wan was brought to the crèches and presented to Crèche Master Polane, a rotund older woman who had been one of the finest Jedi Knights in her day, that there was a problem.

Obi-Wan refused to let go of Qui-Gon. Though Obi-Wan would not remember it, he received his first lesson in learning not to be attached that day when Qui-Gon, looking regretful, peeled Obi-Wan's small hands off his legs and gave his struggling body to Polane. Obi-Wan cried and screamed and beat Polane with his small fists, but Qui-Gon still walked away from him.

Qui-Gon paused on the way out, and those who saw his expression could never agree if they thought he looked upset or not.

Obi-Wan cried himself to sleep many a night, calling for Qui-Gon, though the older man never came back. At least, not right away.

...

Though Qui-Gon never went to him, Obi-Wan sought Qui-Gon out whenever possible. His timing was usually something rather less than convenient.

Qui-Gon's relationship with Adi Gallia was as close as could be allowed. There was no excessive attachment, no expectations, no emotional manipulations. They were good friends, and as it usually happens when two people of a compatible race find they have a mutual attraction, they had become intimate.

Though more than two decades Adi's senior, Qui-Gon found they were well-suited to each other. She was honest, brave, even ferocious at times, and she appreciated that Qui-Gon took his time to make sure she enjoyed herself. Sometimes they simply talked, sometimes they slept together, and the ease of their relationship came naturally.

They were on his sleeping couch in his quiet, smooth-walled room, filled with his collection of plants and pictures of interesting animals, already divested of clothing. Her head was bent over his shoulder as his hands slid over her silky skin, down her firm breasts, soft stomach, wide hips, warm thighs, then -

"Mastuh?"

Qui-Gon jumped, even though Adi was on top of him. She made a soft noise of surprise, grabbed the sheets, and wrapped it around both of them. Qui-Gon turned his head, irritated. Adi slid off his thighs, turning her face in embarrassment.

Obi-Wan stood by the bed, eyes wide and filled with confusion. He kept glancing at Adi uncertainly. Qui-Gon clapped a hand to his face. _How_ in the hell did Obi-Wan get in? He'd locked every door; Obi-Wan must have used the Force to unlock them somehow. If Qui-Gon hadn't been so embarrassed, he would have been impressed a three-year-old could manage a feat that gave many adults trouble.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?" he asked, forcing himself to keep his tone neutral.

Obi-Wan glanced at Adi with distrust, then held up a small toy. It was a complicated mechanical puzzlebox, made for children twice his age. Qui-Gon had a feeling Obi-Wan had stolen it. "Wan' play?" asked Obi-Wan, shaking the box.

"I was already playing with someone, Obi-Wan. You need to go back to your crèche."

"Dun wanna. Wan' you, Mastuh."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but this is not a good time." Qui-Gon heard something which sounded suspiciously like a woman laughing. He glanced at Adi, who sat beside him, still covering her naked body with his sheets and shaking with laughter. The worst part was that Qui-Gon hated to see a beautiful woman covered up when she shouldn't have to be.

When Qui-Gon looked over at Obi-Wan, the boy looked both stubborn and confused. Adi suddenly leaned over Qui-Gon, handing the boy the headdress that Qui-Gon had pulled off her head not even twenty minutes ago. Her dark brown hair slid over her shoulders and she smiled at the boy. "Here, why don't you play with this, Obi-Wan, and go into the sitting room? Then when Master Qui-Gon is done playing with me, he can come out and play with you."

Obi-Wan's face split into a grin. "T'ank you," he said, rushing out of the room.

Qui-Gon looked up at Adi, unable to stop from smiling. She bent down to kiss him. "I think he likes you," she murmured.

Qui-Gon kissed back. "I'd hate to think what he'd be like if he didn't." He rolled over, pulling her against him. She sighed, letting the sheets slide away as she wrapped her arms around him.

They kept it quiet, since Obi-Wan was in the next room, waiting for Qui-Gon to come out and play.

...

By the age of four, Obi-Wan's attachment to both Qui-Gon and Yoda remained. For Yoda, it wasn't a problem. Yoda used Obi-Wan's childish fascination with him to give the boy a little extra training. Yoda hadn't taken such a deep interest in a youngling since Mace Windu had been brought to the Temple, and many Jedi speculated that Yoda might take another Padawan when Obi-Wan was of age.

Qui-Gon, however, was quite perplexed by the little boy. Whenever Qui-Gon was in the Temple, Obi-Wan followed him. Obi-Wan had an untapped potential for stealth. Qui-Gon suspected if Obi-Wan stopped giggling, he might not even have noticed the child hiding behind a pillar, watching Qui-Gon doing his katas. How Obi-Wan managed to repeatedly sneak out of his crèche every day was a mystery no one had solved. Qui-Gon had a feeling they never would.

"You can come out now, young Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon after he heard the fourth round of giggles and clapping when he did a particularly difficult maneuver. He turned off his lightsaber and deactivated the sparring droid. The room he had chosen to spar in was down a disused hallway of the Temple, but that apparently did not deter Obi-Wan from finding him.

The little boy's smile was wide when he left the shadows of the pillar, and he rushed to wrap himself around Qui-Gon's leg. Obi-Wan was a small child, appearing even smaller when found toddling through the immense Jedi Temple. His strawberry-blond hair had already started to darken towards brown, but his blue eyes remained large and bright. Obi-Wan was all eyes, in Qui-Gon's opinion.

"I like tuh watch you fight, Mastuh," said Obi-Wan, popping a couple fingers in his mouth when he looked up at Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon crouched down so he was at Obi-Wan's level. "You like to watch me do everything, Obi-Wan. That isn't healthy."

Obi-Wan didn't seem to understand the problem. He answered Qui-Gon's statement by throwing his small, thin arms around Qui-Gon's neck. Qui-Gon frowned. Obi-Wan's attachment to him could easily hinder his training. If it hadn't been for the violent manner in which Qui-Gon had found the boy, he doubted Obi-Wan would have imprinted to him so clearly. Obi-Wan had been clutching his dying mother's hand, screaming in terror as the village burned around them. The boy had probably forgotten that by now, but Qui-Gon imagined that was probably for the best.

Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan in his arms, which seemed to please him. He was a happy child, full of giggles, and easily delighted. Qui-Gon expected that would change as Obi-Wan grew older, and Qui-Gon felt a brief flash of sadness for that fact. He carried Obi-Wan through the wide Temple halls, taking him back to his crèche. Obi-Wan played with his hair, babbling about training sabers and Yoda.

When Qui-Gon left him at the crèche for the second time, Obi-Wan screamed in hurt and desperation just as he had two years previously. It stung Qui-Gon every bit as much as the first time. The next day, Qui-Gon made arrangements to go on extended mission away from the Temple. He didn't come back until he felt it was time for him to choose a new Padawan.

Unsurprisingly, Qui-Gon already had one in mind.

...

The meeting room was bright and comfortable. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and through the open door, the bustle of other Jedi going about their business in the elegant main hall could be seen. Despite the meeting room's cheerful nature, there was a nervous air hanging in it that had nothing to do with the decor.

Obi-Wan stood in line with the other hopeful Padawans, keeping his eyes focused on the wall in front of him. Knowing that Qui-Gon Jinn, one of the greatest Jedi of their time, was here to choose a Padawan made him want to bounce on his heels, but he resisted. After all, a young man of eleven shouldn't be so excitable about the possibility of beginning his training as a Padawan Learner.

Obi-Wan had few memories left involving Qui-Gon, but he remembered the feelings the older man evoked in him. Qui-Gon meant strength, safety, and security to him. Obi-Wan knew he liked Qui-Gon, though he couldn't entirely explain why. He knew Qui-Gon had brought him to the temple nine years ago, and that was a good enough reason for him.

Master Yoda was there, standing in the corner, in the middle of a whispered conversation with Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was bent on one knee before the small Jedi Master, nodding in agreement. Qui-Gon had the face of an old leonar, though it looked as though he'd forgotten to shave - and possibly even bathe, judging by the state of his robes. Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose a little, but he would be happy to remind Qui-Gon of the importance of daily hygiene should he be chosen. Qui-Gon stood up after several moments and bowed to Yoda, who hobbled out after a glance at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's hopes lifted.

Qui-Gon walked beside Polane, striding in front of all the younglings. She told him about each one he asked about, informing him of their strengths and weaknesses. Qui-Gon's eyes barely rested on Obi-Wan when he passed him, and he asked no questions about him. Obi-Wan sagged a little. He was the best youngling in his crèche, by far. He was faster, smarter, stronger... couldn't Master Qui-Gon see that? Couldn't he see how much Obi-Wan wanted to be chosen? How much he needed to prove himself?

Obi-Wan shifted his feet, unable to squash his jealousy when Qui-Gon bent down to talk to one of the girls in his crèche. Dimi Jade smiled up at Qui-Gon as he spoke, tossing her head when he asked her something. A strand of red hair slipped out her bun, and Obi-Wan wished a hole would open up under her and suck her in. It wasn't fair. Dimi had little self-control and a tendency to react badly to criticism.

Qui-Gon moved on, stopping to talk to another girl, Laredu. She, too, shook her head when he asked her something, and Qui-Gon turned to a Poyan boy named Kier. Qui-Gon went up and down the row of younglings, asking them most of them questions Obi-Wan could not hear. Qui-Gon studied all of them intently, his eyes resting on each. Yet, he never once looked at Obi-Wan for longer than a second. It was as if Obi-Wan weren't even there. Every time he reached Obi-Wan's spot in the line, he passed him by without hesitation.

Obi-Wan began to doubt himself. Yoda often told him he was too proud, and Polane often chastised him for trying too hard to please others. Polane told him he was like a scinter chameleon, even changing the way he behaved to conform to those around him at times. He needed to learn to be stronger, like Qui-Gon. Maybe he wasn't the best of his crèche, after all. Skills with training sabers and the ability to move stones with the Force were not what made a Jedi, after all. He needed to learn to think for himself.

Obi-Wan stared at the polished floor, suspecting a Jedi as wise and powerful as Qui-Gon had seen right through him the moment he walked through the door. What would he want with a weak-willed Padawan who couldn't think for himself? Qui-Gon would want someone firmer. Obi-Wan tugged on his white tunic, wondering if he would ever be good enough for anyone. He wanted to be the best, sometimes so much it kept him up at night, dreaming of how to do things better.

Qui-Gon shook his head when he finished speaking to the last youngling. He whispered something to Polane, then strode to the doorway, standing in it with his back turned for some reason. The younglings started to whisper to each other, all except for Obi-Wan, who sensed something was unfinished. He looked up when Polane tapped his shoulder, her plump face serious.

"Tell me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Last night, when we went through our dream meditation exercises, trying to peer into the future, what did you see?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I already told you, Master Polane."

"Tell me again."

"I dreamt of a little boy."

"What happened to the little boy?" asked Polane. She was normally a cheerful woman, and it made Obi-Wan nervous for her to look at him so sternly. Was he in trouble? He hadn't snuck out of his crèche in months, and other than that particular vice, he'd always been a model youngling.

"The little boy... he was on fire." Obi-Wan frowned. He'd hated that dream more than anything, but it seemed important. "He was my friend, but I watched him burn."

"Why did you not help him?"

"Because he didn't deserve it. He'd done terrible things."

"Did he die?"

"Yes. No. I'm... not sure."

Polane's face was still serious. "What did you do then?"

"I... walked away."

"Why?"

"It wasn't my place to decide his fate. He was more important than I was, so I left his fate to the will of the Force."

Polane gave him a sharp look. "Tell the truth, Obi-Wan."

"It is the truth!" Obi-Wan did not like recalling the dream, and if he never had to think about it for the rest of his life, he could die happy. It hurt, in ways he couldn't understand yet. It was a deep hurt, an ache in his heart. It was a big feeling, too big for a small boy like him.

"The whole truth."

Obi-Wan sighed, glancing at Qui-Gon's back, wondering why he was still standing in the doorway. "I loved that little boy," he admitted. "I didn't want to kill him. But he was evil, and I couldn't let him live, either. I know... I know we're not supposed to form attachment, but I had. Anything I did would have been because I loved him, so I thought it would be better if the Force decided, not me."

"Are you proud of that decision?"

"No," said Obi-Wan slowly. "It was the most shameful thing I ever did. It hurt me, like I was burning, too. But on the inside."

Polane smiled at him, then glanced at Qui-Gon. To Obi-Wan's confusion, Qui-Gon nodded when Obi-Wan finished speaking. "He's perfect," he said in his mellow baritone and walked out.

Obi-Wan looked up at Polane, who patted him on the shoulder, face crinkling as she smiled. "You better run to catch up with your new Master, Obi-Wan. He's impatient to begin your training."

Feeling as though his heart might burst with joy, Obi-Wan ran out of the room to find Qui-Gon.

...

"Did Qui-Gon like you when you were little?"

Obi-Wan sighed. He looked up from the datapad he was trying to read, finding his young Padawan standing front of him, a curious expression on his elfin face. Anakin Skywalker was a pretty little boy, somehow familiar to Obi-Wan, though he couldn't say why.

"I'm trying to read."

"You're always reading," said Anakin, climbing up onto Obi-Wan's lap without hesitation.

Obi-Wan shifted under the unfamiliar weight. He'd never been good with children, not like Qui-Gon had, and the only child who'd ever dared to sit on his lap was Anakin. He'd tried shoving Anakin off before, but Obi-Wan couldn't bear to see the hurt look on the boy's face, so he resigned himself to his fate.

"You're a little too old for this, don't you think?" asked Obi-Wan, trying to arrange his arms around Anakin so he could still read. Light flashed into the small common room in their quarters, momentarily blinding Obi-Wan as an airspeeder passed too close. He tilted his head in annoyance.

"I'm only ten," reasoned Anakin. Obi-Wan knew that attitude wouldn't last. Anakin always reasoned he was old enough to do the new things he wanted, but young enough to remain doing the things he liked. Ten was apparently a very flexible age.

"You're heavy."

Anakin smiled for some mysterious reason and rested his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'm a growing boy, that's why."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. _Contradiction, thine name is Anakin Skywalker,_ he thought to himself, patting Anakin on the back of his head. His blond hair had started to darken since his haircut, and Anakin's Padawan braid lying on Obi-Wan's tunic caught his eyes. It was too short for a boy Anakin's age, a constant reminder of how late he'd begun his training - the training Qui-Gon should have been doing, but had entrusted to Obi-Wan upon his death.

Obi-Wan found it very hard to read when he thought of Qui-Gon going cold and still in his arms. He set aside the datapad and leaned back as much as Anakin and the plush chair he sat in would allow him, sighing.

Anakin started to poke at the beard Obi-Wan was just starting to grow in. He seemed fascinated by the bristles of hair, running his small fingers over them. "You didn't answer my question."

Obi-Wan sighed, finding the touch both strange and comforting. He thought of Qui-Gon, strong and flexible, impassive and mystifying, stern and loose. He thought of Qui-Gon's plants and his penchant for picking up pathetic lifeforms Obi-Wan hadn't thought worth their time. He thought of Qui-Gon holding him when he was very small, on a transport to the Jedi Temple, but remembered Qui-Gon walking away from him. The moment that possessed the most clarity in Obi-Wan's mind was when Qui-Gon had chosen him for a Padawan. When Obi-Wan asked Qui-Gon why he'd never spoken to Obi-Wan directly during the interviews, Qui-Gon's only answer had been, "Because I wanted to make sure my decision was not made in haste, my young Padawan. Now, return to your studies."

It was almost as if Obi-Wan was the only choice Qui-Gon had ever made not in haste. Obi-Wan wondered if Qui-Gon had ever been questioned for choosing an apprentice that had been attached to him from a young age. Knowing Qui-Gon as he had, Obi-Wan suspected the older man had never cared.

"Yes, of course he did," Obi-Wan finally answered. "Why do you ask?"

Anakin suddenly looked hesitant, and he chewed on his bottom lip before answering. "Do you like me?"

Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin, unable to resist smiling. "Would you cry if I told you 'no'?" he asked.

"I'm too old to cry," said Anakin quickly, his eyes narrowing. He stopped playing with Obi-Wan's beard. "Do you? Not like me?"

"No."

"'No', what?" asked Anakin, clearly in a panic now. He sat up on Obi-Wan's lap, his blue eyes wide.

Obi-Wan laughed. Anakin's buttons were too easily pushed, but he couldn't stop himself. Qui-Gon had never let himself react to Obi-Wan's teasing, and it was sort of nice to have someone who did. "'No', I don't not like you."

Anakin took a moment to work that out. "So you like me then?" he asked hopefully.

"Against my better judgment."

Anakin beamed and threw his arms around Obi-Wan's neck. "I like you, too, Master."

"Aren't you a little old for this?"

"I'm ten, Master. 'Course not."

"One day, we'll have to work out exactly what ten makes you too old for."

Anakin only smiled, settling himself on Obi-Wan's lap again. At the time, Obi-Wan didn't realize that he'd lied to Anakin. He didn't like Anakin; he loved him. Obi-Wan figured that out a year later.

Obi-Wan wasn't surprised he'd come to love Anakin. He'd always been prone to forming attachments, after all.

...

The airshuttle taking them back to the Jedi Temple was small and cramped. Obi-Wan kept the tint of the windows dark, but even so, the midday Coruscant sun flashed through on occasion, alternating the airshuttle interior between light and dark as they zipped past the buildings of the endless city.

Anakin sat beside him. Obi-Wan could tell he was sulking without even looking at the boy's face. As bright and eager as he had been at ten, Anakin seemed to be making up for it by being as petulant as he could at age twelve. He was still upset about the lecture Obi-Wan had given him over losing his lightsaber while on their mission to Lorteki. He took everything so _personally_. Every time Obi-Wan criticized him, he became angry, defending himself until he inevitably lost the battle of wits and went to sulk.

There were times when Obi-Wan wondered how he'd managed not to drown Anakin in the Temple pool. The boy made everything so difficult, and practically everything Obi-Wan said earned him an argument lately.

"I'm sorry, Master," said Anakin after a moment, his petulance draining away as he nuzzled against Obi-Wan's arm. "I won't lose my lightsaber again. I shouldn't have been so clumsy."

But Anakin wasn't clumsy. Anakin had been distracted. Anakin could do things that even at twenty-eight, Obi-Wan found difficult. He'd learned long ago that skills with a lightsaber was not what made a Jedi, but if it was, Anakin would quickly surpass Master Yoda before even fully-trained. He tried so hard to succeed at everything set before him, as hard as Obi-Wan had tried at his age. If anything, the problem was that Anakin tried too hard and refused to accept failure.

And Obi-Wan kept pushing him. Obi-Wan's childhood desire to be the best, but the knowledge that he wasn't, drove him to be hard on Anakin, sometimes too hard. Anakin was the Chosen One; he should be pushed to his limits. He needed to be the best in the way Obi-Wan could never be.

"It's fine," said Obi-Wan after a few moments, watching the buildings blur past as the airshuttle continued to fly towards the Temple. It wasn't fine, but he didn't know what else to say. Anakin constantly put him at a loss for words and even understanding.

Anakin pulled Obi-Wan's arm up, draping it over him. It was a useless gesture of affection, but it somehow warmed Obi-Wan. Comfort was not something Jedi often offered each other, but Anakin freely gave it and demanded it just as freely.

"You're still mad at me."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I was never mad to begin with, Anakin." He wasn't sure how to tell Anakin that he loved him so much that he wanted the best for him, wanted him to _be_ the best. Obi-Wan didn't know how to tell Anakin that he often felt he wasn't up to the job of training Anakin. He had no words to express that every time he chastised Anakin, he did it out of concern, not dislike. Instead of articulating any of that, Obi-Wan pulled the boy tighter against his chest, hoping it would help him relax.

Anakin was silent for some time. As they neared the Temple, he spoke again. "Would you have chosen me for your Padawan? Like Master Jade chose Kagun-Ri? If you had a choice between me and all the other younglings standing in a line?" He sounded timid, unsure of himself. Obi-Wan wondered exactly what Anakin _wanted_ from him.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but recall standing in a line of his crèchemates as Qui-Gon walked past him, questioning everyone else but him. He remembered thinking he was weak and couldn't think for himself, yet he knew that wasn't the case now. Whether from Qui-Gon's instruction or not, Obi-Wan could handle anything - anything but this little boy demanding everything he wasn't supposed to give him. Qui-Gon must have gone into that meeting room all those years ago knowing he wanted Obi-Wan for a Padawan, but Obi-Wan hadn't even entertained the notion of training Anakin until Qui-Gon begged him to do it with his dying breath.

The memory stung, and Obi-Wan kept his attention on the window, though he wasn't seeing anything anymore. He just saw Qui-Gon standing with his back turned, waiting for Obi-Wan to prove his point, then walking off and expecting Obi-Wan to keep up.

"Would you have picked me?" prompted Anakin.

Obi-Wan imagined another row of younglings, heads tilted down, all too intimidated too look at him. He could see Anakin in that row as clear as day, his generous lips tugged down, long fingers occasionally reaching up to scratch at his short Padawan braid. Obi-Wan could see himself walking up and down the line, speaking to each youngling, but not receiving the answer he wanted. It was pointless in any case. Like Qui-Gon, he just _knew_ which Padawan was meant for him. Obi-Wan hadn't known it right away, but he knew now. Anakin was perfect.

"Yes," was all Obi-Wan said.

Anakin seemed content with that answer, at least for the moment.

...

When Luke Skywalker was brought to the Lars homestead, he was two days old.

He came wrapped up in a white blanket, held in Obi-Wan Kenobi's arms. This was not entirely Obi-Wan's choice. Since separating Luke from his twin sister on the isolated asteroid of Polis Massa, Luke had cried every time Obi-Wan set him down, even for a moment. Luke slept contentedly in Obi-Wan's arms now, one tiny fist curled around his blanket. He was quiet for the moment.

In fact, one of the first things about Luke that Obi-Wan had noticed about the infant was that he was strangely quiet for a newborn. The Force ran strong in him, humming under Obi-Wan's fingertips when he touched him.

When Obi-Wan handed the baby boy to Beru Lars, Luke did not even stir. He settled well against Beru's bosom as she smiled down at him and brought him to his uncle, Owen. Obi-Wan stood there and watched Owen receive his nephew, the familial scene painted against the spectacular Tatooine sunset. It sort of hurt that no one seemed to notice he was there anymore, but Obi-Wan knew his place. He'd raised his child, and he'd failed that same child. He would not taint Anakin's son as he had Anakin.

Obi-Wan turned back to Torr, the eopie he'd rode in on. It was quickly growing darker and colder, but Obi-Wan wasn't afraid. He would have to get used to being alone, at least in the conventional sense. The Force would always be with him, and the nebulous sense of Qui-Gon grew stronger. He was waiting to speak with Obi-Wan, and knowing his old Master was still there, as he had been when Obi-Wan was a small boy, comforted Obi-Wan.

As Obi-Wan rode away, he heard Luke suddenly start to cry. He did not need to turn his head to know Luke was crying for him, crying for his sister, perhaps even crying for the parents he would never truly know. It broke Obi-Wan's heart anew to hear that soft wail, crying for him without words, and he could clearly see the tiny hands reaching for him. It mixed with a similar vision, a recent memory of the little boy he'd allowed himself to love burning on a blackened shore, reaching for him with a metal hand. Obi-Wan had left that little boy's fate to the will of the Force, and he would have to do the same with Luke

Obi-Wan paused on the way out, and though no one saw his expression, pain was visibly written across his face.

Luke cried himself to sleep many a night, calling for Obi-Wan, though the older man never came back. At least, not right away.

_End._


End file.
